Reconsidering What It Means to Put Yourself First

After writing about forgetting myself, it feels only right to talk about what comes next.

Because once you realize you have been missing from your own life, the next question becomes a little uncomfortable.

“So… what now?”

Do you journal about it?

Do you take a bath?

Do you buy a new planner?

Do you light a candle and hope the version of you that has been buried under years of responsibility casually reappears somewhere between the candlelight and the eucalyptus steam?

I mean, maybe.

I love a candle.

But eventually, the question gets more direct.

What does it actually mean to put yourself first?

That phrase can make people uncomfortable.

Especially women.

Especially women who have spent years being praised for being dependable, helpful, and low-maintenance.

Putting yourself first can sound selfish.

It can sound dramatic.

It can sound like you are about to abandon everyone, quit your job, stop answering texts, and walk barefoot into the sunset with a linen bag and a healed nervous system.

That is not exactly what I mean.

Although the linen bag does sound peaceful.

What I mean is this:

Putting yourself first is not always about making yourself the only priority.

Sometimes it is simply about finally making yourself one of them.

Why It Feels So Uncomfortable

For many of us, choosing ourselves feels unnatural because we have been trained not to.

We learned to be considerate.

To keep the peace.

To not ask for too much.

And listen, none of those things are automatically bad.

Kindness is not bad.

Generosity is not bad.

Being dependable is not bad.

But when those qualities require you to consistently ignore your own needs, they stop being virtues and start becoming a trap.

A very pretty trap sometimes.

One with matching family calendars, reliable income, holiday traditions, and everyone saying, “I don’t know how you do it all.”

And part of you likes hearing that.

Because it feels like proof.

Proof that you are capable.

Proof that you are needed.

Proof that you are doing a good job.

But there is another question underneath all that praise:

At what cost?

The Cost of Always Being Last

When you are always last on your own list, it does not usually look alarming at first.

It looks reasonable.

It looks mature.

It looks like handling business.

You skip the appointment because work got busy.

You stay quiet because you do not want to start an argument.

You say yes because it is easier than explaining your no.

One decision at a time, it seems harmless.

But over time, those small abandonments add up.

Not all at once.

Slowly.

Until you realize you have become very good at managing your life and very bad at actually living inside of it.

That is a hard thing to admit.

Because nobody wants to look at a life they worked hard to build and realize they are exhausted by the way they are participating in it.

But sometimes that is the truth.

Not because the life is all wrong.

Not because the people in it are all wrong.

Not because you failed.

But because the version of you who built that life was doing the best she could with the needs, tools, and beliefs she had at the time.

And now, maybe, you need something different.

Putting Yourself First Is Not Selfish

Let’s clear this up.

Putting yourself first does not mean becoming inconsiderate.

It does not mean you stop loving people.

It does not mean every decision becomes about your comfort.

It means you stop confusing self-abandonment with love.

That part is important.

Because many of us were taught, directly or indirectly, that love looks like depletion.

If I care, I will say yes.

If I am strong, I will not need much.

If I am a good woman, I will keep going.

But love that requires you to disappear is not the highest form of love.

It is a warning sign.

And I say that gently, because many of us have lived there.

Putting yourself first simply means your needs are allowed to be part of the conversation.

Your rest.

Your health.

Your joy.

Your voice.

Your life.

Not after everyone else is completely satisfied.

Not after the work is done.

Not after you become the perfect version of yourself.

Now.

Imperfectly.

In the middle of real life.

The First Time You Choose Yourself May Feel Awkward

This is the part people do not always talk about.

Choosing yourself can feel strange at first.

Sometimes it does not feel empowering.

Sometimes it feels rude.

Sometimes it feels selfish.

Sometimes it feels like you are doing something wrong, even when you are doing something healthy.

The first time you say, “I cannot do that,” and do not follow it with a full explanation, your whole body may try to leave the room.

The first time you make time for something that matters to you, someone may be inconvenienced.

The first time you stop overfunctioning, people may notice.

And not everyone will clap.

That does not automatically mean you are wrong.

Sometimes people are uncomfortable with your boundaries because they benefited from you not having any.

Sometimes people are surprised by your preferences because they are used to you not expressing them.

Trust me, when I picked up and decided to move cross-country, people were confused.

They were bewildered.

Some were just straight-up pissed that I had “abandoned” them.

That is not a reason to go back to disappearing.

It is a reason to keep practicing.

Because as harsh as it sounds, you were trained to sit out your own life.

Slowly, like I said.

The issue now is that we are in midlife, so the reclaiming of your life cannot be quite so slow.

What Choosing Yourself Can Look Like

Putting yourself first does not have to be dramatic.

It does not have to announce itself.

It does not have to come with a speech.

Sometimes it looks like going to bed instead of doing one more thing.

Sometimes it looks like scheduling the appointment you keep postponing.

Sometimes it looks like saying, “I need to think about that,” instead of giving an automatic yes.

Sometimes it looks like taking the class.

Writing the song.

Starting the blog.

Going to therapy.

Changing the job.

Taking the walk.

Sitting in silence.

Letting people be mildly disappointed.

Or completely pissed and unwilling to speak to you again.

Honestly, that depends on how dramatic they are, not you.

Sometimes it looks like telling your family:

“I have voice lessons at this time. I won’t be available.”

Sometimes it looks like deciding that the parts of you that create, dream, rest, and feel joy are not extra.

They are essential.

They are the starting point.

The Guilt May Come Along for the Ride

Here is the thing.

Le sigh…

You may choose yourself and still feel guilty.

That does not mean you made the wrong choice.

It may just mean guilt has been riding shotgun for a long time.

Sometimes guilt shows up because you are doing something bad.

But sometimes guilt shows up because you are doing something new.

Something unfamiliar.

Something that challenges an old pattern.

Something that says:

“I matter too.”

And if you have not been saying that for a while, it may feel uncomfortable.

Let it be uncomfortable.

You do not have to wait until you feel completely guilt-free to begin.

You can feel guilty and still say no.

You can feel guilty and still take the time.

You can feel guilty and still choose differently.

The goal is not to never feel guilt.

The goal is to stop letting guilt be the only voice in the room.

Midlife Has a Way of Asking Better Questions

This is one thing I am learning.

Midlife does not always ask polite questions.

It asks the ones we have been avoiding.

Are you happy?

Are you well?

Do you recognize yourself?

Does this still fit?

What do you actually want?

Rude.

But necessary.

And maybe that is why this season can feel so uncomfortable.

It is not just that our bodies are changing.

It is that our tolerance for pretending starts changing too.

The things we used to ignore become harder to ignore.

The roles we used to squeeze ourselves into start feeling too tight.

The life we were managing, instead of living, starts asking to be reconsidered.

And maybe that is not a crisis.

Maybe that is wisdom.

The Reconsidered Part

For me, putting myself first has not looked like becoming selfish.

It has looked like becoming honest.

Honest about what drains me.

Honest about what restores me.

Honest about what I want.

Honest about what I no longer want to carry.

It has meant learning that my needs do not have to be dramatic to be valid.

It has meant learning that I do not have to justify every no.

It has meant learning that joy does not need to be productive.

It has meant learning that my body, my time, my voice, and my peace are not leftovers.

They are mine.

And maybe that is what putting yourself first really means.

Not abandoning everyone else.

Not becoming hard.

Not becoming careless.

But refusing to keep disappearing from yourself.

That is the difference.

This week, ask yourself:

Where am I still treating myself like the least urgent person in my own life?

Then ask:

What is one small way I can choose myself without setting everything I have built ablaze?

Maybe it is rest.

Maybe it is honesty.

Maybe it is asking for help.

Maybe it is saying no.

Maybe it is saying yes to something that feels like you.

Start there.

Small counts.

Quiet counts.

Imperfect counts.

Because putting yourself first does not have to mean turning your whole life upside down.

Sometimes it simply means turning back toward yourself.